the dingles. But even here, where sap of time had breached the turfy
ramparts, the hover of the dew-mist passed away, and the steady light
was unfolded.

For the season was early August still, with beautiful weather come
at last; and the green world seemed to stand on tiptoe to make the
extraordinary acquaintance of the sun. Humble plants which had long lain
flat stood up with a sense of casting something off; and the damp heavy
trunks which had trickled for a twelvemonth, or been only sponged with
moss, were hailing the fresher light with keener lines and dove-colored
tints upon their smoother boles. Then, conquering the barrier of the
eastern land crest, rose the glorious sun himself, strewing before him
trees and crags in long steep shadows down the hill. Then the sloping
rays, through furze and brush-land, kindling the sparkles of the dew,
descended to the brink of the Dike, and scorning to halt at petty
obstacles, with a hundred golden hurdles bridged it wherever any opening
was.

Under this luminous span, or through it where the crossing gullies ran,
Mary Anerley rode at leisure, allowing her pony to choose his pace. That
privilege he had long secured, in right of age, wisdom, and remarkable
force of character. Considering his time of life, he looked well and
sleek, and almost sprightly; and so, without any reservation, did his
gentle and graceful rider. The maiden looked well in a place like that,
as indeed in almost any place; but now she especially set off the color
of things, and was set off by them. For instance, how could the silver
of the dew-cloud, and golden weft of sunrise, playing through the
dapples of a partly wooded glen, do better (in the matter of variety)
than frame a pretty moving figure in a pink checked frock, with a skirt
of russet murrey, and a bright brown hat? Not that the hat itself was